Wishful Thinking
by notevenifyoukillme
Summary: When Willow detects the mentally unstable Slayer Dana in L.A., she sends Buffy to help her before anyone is harmed. With a giant lawfirm, Angel and Spike, she has to face the million dollar question; is she baked? Set during Angel Season 5.
1. In Full Swing

Okay, I was trying to write the next chapter of Destination, Unknown, but since I'd just watched Angel Season Five's Life Of The Party, this came out instead. I'm not sure if I'll turn this into a longer fic, but I can see it happening. It all depends on how well it's received, so let me know if you guys like it. I think that's it, so read and enjoy! Reviews are excellent, and would make me happy. This contains spoilers for season five, so if you haven't seen it, beware.

* * *

In the middle of that God forsaken lobby, everything came rushing to the surface. Angel was running an evil lawfirm; he knew he could handle that. It was for Connor, for a life he deserved and a life that his true father (was he even a true father? Could a child born of two vampires even HAVE true parents?) couldn't give him. It was worth it, and he would have done it a thousand times over.

But when he rigidly shook the hands of all the beings he would have impaled in an instant but a year prior, it didn't feel right; it felt even less right than usual. He couldn't get out just yet, that was certain - not if he wanted to live (or, unlive) to save another life. He was in the belly of the beast, and he was getting digested. The decorations that Lorne had gone to such lengths to arrange filled him with disgust and disdain for most of the people in the room who looked upon them with light hearted ease. This was how he was changing the world for the better; with fruit punch and party hats. Some champion. Maybe Spike WAS the one. While Angel had been in L.A. setting up his new office, Spike had been saving the world for the woman they both loved.

No, that wasn't right. Buffy had asked HIM to leave, not the other way around. But when had she done what he had asked simply because he requested it? Maybe he should have just stayed and fought. Everything had turned out fine for Spike, hadn't it?

That annoying voice of logic told him very loudly that _no_, it hadn't turned out fine for Spike, but the guilt and shame that clung to him still refused to be shaken off.

He should have stayed. But Buffy hadn't wanted him to stay. She had wanted Spike.

With a shade of incredulity, Angel realised that he was being petty. Well, that was new.

[ ]

Lorne could almost feel the pressure in his head cracking it from the inside out. Almost. Stil, he had to keep on truckin'. No one liked a cry baby, and the show had to go on. With these and a thousand more overused cliché's doing a very bad job of consoling or motivating him, he dragged Angel over to the most important people and began the introductions.

"Angel, this is Cyrus Vail." Angel stood completely still and Lorne elbowed him in the ribs. "Angel, say hello."

"Hello," said Angel, his voice smooth with steely undertones. Lorne had to hand it to him, he knew how to mark his territory. His people skills, however, left something to be desired.

"Try to play nice with this one," Lorne instructed, making his way over to a different group of demons that he was yet to mingle with.

[ ]

"I don't care Andrew, this isn't your mission. No! I'm not planning on staying for long anyway... Yes, I know you want to see what the fuss about Angel is. Well I really couldn't care less. I don't know! Google it or something. I'm sure there's something about him somewhere. Oh, really? Just WHO exactly is the one in L.A.? Look, I have to get this Slayer; Willow said sending you would get you hurt." Buffy pinched the bridge of her nose with her index finger and thumb, willing her frustration to subside. "Hey! One of the new Slayers speaks Klingon, I know what that means!" Buffy grinned when the other end of the phone was filled with nervous stuttering. "I'll check in later. Goodbye Andrew."

Buffy sighed. It was bad enough that she had to be here, she didn't need Andrew bugging her about Angel. This was business, she just wanted to do what she had to do and get back to Scotland. Even though she knew that she was here for a reason, she still felt a little awkward about being in Angel's city again. She fully expected him to send her away like she had months earlier, and she didn't like how vulnerable that made her feel. Giles had called ahead and told Angel that he would be sending someone to deal with the rogue Slayer, but that didn't ease her tension in the slightest. He didn't know that it was Buffy, and neither had Giles. Her Watcher had insisted that they send someone else, but she knew that this was what she had to do, and eventually he had conceded with his usual parting 'be careful'.

When Giles had given Buffy a different address for Angel than the one he had lived in during his first year, she had naturally assumed that he had moved on to better things than the small (yet quaint) office she had seen during her brief visits (neither of which she recalled with any relish). When he had told her that Angel was running Wolfram and Hart, she had informed him that he must have been mistaken, because Angel would never do that. With all the things that even she had read about the firm, she knew that the money and the novelty would never suck in Angel, of all people. Her words to her friends had been, 'It just isn't an Angel-y thing to do'.

When Giles had given her enough evidence to prove what he had been telling her, she had accepted that she was wrong and apologised for several unpleasant names she had called her Watcher, but remained silently adamant that Angel had some secret incentive for taking up the head position there.

As she stood outside of the massive office building, some part of her told her to continue believing that. This was Angel she was thinking about; he just wasn't the type to take a shiny office job with an inscribed pen and Armani suit. He lived for ninety years on the blood of rodents, for God's sake!

'_Who are you really arguing with_?' a part of her wanted to know. No one else was around, it was true, and she already had enough facts to make what she believed would be an informed decision. There was only one thing left; she needed to see him. With practised control, Buffy stepped into the building and tried to fend off the clouds of doubt that the most logical part of her mind was casting over her first love.

[ ]

"This... This 's cer-aaazy," Fred giggled, fully inebriated. "I so am - I am so, with the drinks, um..." She clicked her fingers. "Drunk! Is what Fred is."

Wesley giggled more girlishly than she had, a few employees casting them amused glances. "Me too," he whispered conspiratorially. "So what d'you wanna do?" he asked, trying to hold his laughter at bay long enough to look serious. "Because this is like, our night off. We could do ANYTHING. We could... go to Europe."

"Why... Would we Europe? We go Europe?" Fred replied, her low alcohol tolerance making a trial of forming coherent sentences.

Wesley bit down on his fist to stop the fresh peals of giggles. "Because we... can!"

Equally amused, loud laughter burst from Fred. "I think I know what I wanna do," she said, placing her hand over his and looking expectantly.

Wesley returned her look with one of understanding, entwining their fingers. "THUMB WAR!"

"One, three, two... four, I declare a... Hey, whozat?" Fred asked, pointing. "Ih'sa fight!"

"'S'not how y'play the game, Fred. I'll show you." Wesley snorted, smug.

"No," Fred disagreed, drawing his attention to some commotion over by the door. "Ih'sa fight, Wesley!"

"S... So it is." Wesley hiccupped, then stumbled over to the source of the noise while Fred headed in the opposite direction to use the bathroom. "'Scuse... me?"

"WESLEY?"

Wesley squinted, recognising the voice. "Buffy?"

Although she was covered by a demon larger than herself, Wesley could now - even in his stupor - make out the blonde locks of his former ward.

"Hey. Little help?"

Before Wesley could attempt (and presumably fail) to resolve the debacle, security personnel had stepped in. The two of them pried the demon off of Buffy and pulled the small, blonde girl to the side. Their faces betrayed very little disbelief, and Wesley assumed that they had long ago learned not to judge by appearances. A good move, too, because the very agitated Slayer seemed to be itching to continue her beating of the demon that had skulked off and Wesley could not discern. They requested her access card and she grudgingly handed it to them.

"Wesley, hi," began Buffy in a very businesslike manner, as though she had not been pulverising one of his clients not half a minute ago. She deposited her access card once again when it was handed back to her mid-greeting. "Party?"

Wesley was determined to be serious, but the point of the matter was that he was still very drunk. "It uh... Yes." Before the two could engage in what would have undoubtedly been a very muddled conversation, the security personnel that had released Buffy approached her.

"Miss?" the first guard said, making no physical contact. He was obviously wary of receiving the same punishment as the demon they had pried off of her; the small blonde being comparatively unscathed. This surprised Wesley, for they had willingly manhandled much more threatening-looking demons. "The sir you were... talking to, informs us that you assaulted him."

Buffy crossed her arms and scowled at them. "Did the 'sir' you were talking to also tell you about the comments he made? Technically, he asked me to do half of those things."

The guards looked unimpressed. "We'll still have to escort you out of the building, at our clients' request."

Buffy shot Wesley a pleading look. "Wait a... Minute," he interrupted, wagging his finger at them with little co-ordination. "Sh-she's a friend."

The taller of the two guards – the one who had been doing all the talking, surveyed Wesley grimly. He was quite obviously in no state to be the judge of anything, especially not the presence of a possible psychotic who was much stronger than she looked. Still; drunk or not, he was still their superior, making the guard much more patient than they would have been in any other situation.

"I think we should check with the boss first." The quieter guard was reminiscent of the days when 'checking with the boss' meant introducing the offending party to the sharp side of his sword, but the nostalgia he felt was not strong enough that he would go against his orders. Obligingly, he wrapped his fingers around the girl and her surprisingly solid muscles.

"Hey!" Buffy exclaimed and tore her arm away from the guard, who stepped back and anticipated her blows, which did not come. "Hands off!"

The guard grunted, but did not attempt to grab her again. Buffy moved forward, satisfied. "Okay, take me to your leader," she said, intoning her voice to sound slightly odd. The guards, who hadn't watched a movie for a very long time, failed to grasp her reference. "Fine." She sighed, sorry her wit had been wasted. "Let's go CEO."

The guards glanced at each other, and then the still incapacitated Wesley. "Do you know where he is?" the tall man asked.

[ ]

A small crowd had gathered when a fight had broken out, but when it had been cut short the conglomerate promptly dispersed. Wesley and Fred aside, no one of importance had noticed it and the party was back in full swing with the troublemaking Slayer all but forgotten in the corner.

"You take that way," the taller guard, who had introduced himself to Wesley as John (a name Wesley suspected was fake) pointed towards the elevator and directed the guard towards the left side of the party. He took the right side himself, scouring the area for their boss. The guard prayed that this was resolved soon, because his favourite song had begun to play.

[ ]

"This is our head of the Entertainment department, Lorne," John introduced when they had failed to find Angel several minutes later. "He reads you when you sing."

"I'm gettin' a pretty good vibe from here," the green demon said with a welcoming grin, shaking Buffy's hand. Although he was strange looking and overly eccentric, nothing about Lorne told Buffy to reach for the stake tucked in her belt (or the back up in her growingly uncomfortable knee high boots), and she allowed him to kiss her on the cheek. "What's she in the Principals' office for?"

John pointed to a disgruntled client bordering on the dance floor, nursing a swollen purple eye. Whether or not the purple was inflicted or his natural colour Buffy couldn't tell, but the swelling put her in a much better mood.

Lorne whistled. "Wow, good job Princess. What'd you do? Smack him over the head with a desk? You're lucky he's only an employee, not a party guest."

Buffy sheepishly lifted her moderately pink fist indicatively. "Just introduced him to a few friends. I'm here about a rogue Slayer?"

"Ah. You must be a Slayer yourself, huh? Either that, or I've seriously underestimated the human race." Lorne examined Buffy closely; so closely that she almost took a step back, nervous under his intimidating observation. What she didn't realise was that Lorne was trying to place her face. "Angel! That's how I know you. You're in Angel!"

"I'm w… what?" Buffy stammered, wondering if the demon was not so sane after all.

Lorne laughed and brushed the comment aside. "I mean, I saw you when I read him. That's how I knew your cute little mug. Wanna gimme a tune, sugarplum?"

"Uh… Okay," she replied hesitantly. She wondered if Andrew was better suited for this. She didn't doubt that he would have busted out some sort of cheesy song and gotten right down to business, and now here _she_ was; stricken by stage fright. "I… _Wild horses_… _Couldn't drag me away_," she sang, smiling as memories flooded her and surprised that the song had floated into her head. "_Wi-ild horses, couldn't drag me away_."

"Me neither," Lorne said, raising a single finger to stop her singing, but seeming satisfied. "As much as I'd love to stay for the whole show, the intermission happens to be there for a reason. We've got a lot to do, and not enough time to do it. I'd be more specific, but I need to get back to our little shindig." Lorne led her towards a meeting room and waved his hand in the direction of the seat, which she took. "Hope you're in the mood for Angel-pie," he mumbled. The girl, although incredibly interesting, had the worst timing Lorne had ever seen. Actually, he scratched that; _Slayers_ had the worst timing he had ever seen.

[ ]

Angel had been pleasant; even Lorne had said that he was impressed, but when he saw one of his less heartbeat-oriented employees tried to slip blood into the punch, Angel handed him over to security and made his way upstairs to his apartment and some quality thinking time. He had even managed to escape Eve's presence, not caring much for her compliments on his handling of the Archduke Sebassis.

Unexpectedly, the elevator button lit up to show that it was on the rise, jerking him from his reverie. Seconds later, the button dinged and Lorne exited it, looking even tenser than he had before.

"I was about to get back down there," Angel lied, blindly reaching for the closest item to him. "I was just coming up here for…" he glanced down and saw what he had picked up. "A sock. One of my socks had a hole in it."

It was obvious that Lorne didn't believe him, and he didn't look impressed. "Sure it did, Angelcakes. You got someone waiting for you downstairs, something about a rogue Slayer. Try to be quick, we need you out on the dance floor."

This grabbed Angels' attention immediately; Giles wasn't supposed to send someone for days. He wondered who it was – probably a new Watcher. Had Giles gathered new Watchers yet? No, he dismissed; they'd need strength… Unless of course they assumed that Angel would be enough. He _did_ run Wolfram and Hart; firepower wasn't actually a problem. Wait, dance floor?

"Pretty bad timing, huh?" he said, not feeling particularly sorry that he would miss out on a chance to embarrass himself.

Lorne grimaced in agreement. "Somethin' like that."

[ ]

Buffy, against all of her instincts, did what the green demon told her to and sat in the chair. She fully intended to stay where she was until Angel appeared to usher her out of his hotel and his city, when a grey horned demon with multiple followers and a cloak began screaming. Wesley had tried to diffuse the situation, but in his drunken state was of little good and managed to anger him further.

The Slayer decided that this was her kind of party, and made her way onto the dance floor. She manoeuvred through the conga line and ignored the annoyed grunts as she pushed people aside. Facing the demon, whom everyone else was gawking at wordlessly, she said, "What's the sitch?"

The demon didn't seem to take kindly to being asked this. "The nerve! The raw nerve! To lay a hand on one of mine!"

Buffy became more aware of her periphery than she had been before, and as such spotted the weapons being pointed in her direction. "Lower your weapons. These are innocents." Her voice faltered on the word; mostly because she didn't believe it, but partly because as soon as she said it the closest one drew closer.

"Artode was murdered. I imagine we were to be next. And still you tell me to lower my weapons?" Buffy looked at him with confusion. She honestly had no idea who Artode was, or why he was dead. Then again, if he went around pointing guns at everyone he met, she could guess. "These darts are poisoned. They are strong enough to kill a human in a heartbeat. Less. Fetch me Angel, I've no use for you. I came here out of courtesy, and yet you have the hide to challenge the Archduke Sebassis?!"

Buffy crossed her arms. She had no idea why she hadn't just backed away. She wouldn't mourn if these demons were killed, and from what she had heard it would probably benefit the world _more_ if all of the people in the room died. Still, she held her ground. "Someone get Angel!" she yelled to the room, keeping her eyes locked on those of the Archduke. "Listen, we didn't try to kill you."

"In there!" a human employee yelled, pointing to the Angel's office. Buffy and Archduke Sebassis simultaneously barged through the doors, met with Angel and Lorne. She didn't need her Slayer senses to know that all Hell was about to break loose.


	2. The Suggestion Box

Okay here's chapter two of Wishful Thinking. This is Life of the Party, but with Buffy in the mix.  
**For those of you following Destination, Unknown**: I promise I haven't forgotten about it and I'm not abandoning it, but the chapter I'm trying to write is difficult and I've got _major_ writers' block. I will update it as soon as I can, stick in there with me, and hopefully you like this too. Reviews are wonderful.

* * *

"Spikey," Harmony cooed, brushing her hands over him whilst still keeping in time with the music. "Isn't this nice? Just you and me, without all the trouble and–"

"Buffy," Spike said, with shock. Angel had told him that Buffy was in Europe, and he had believed his soul-bearing sire. Only now did that occur to him as an exceedingly stupid thing to do. Just because they both had souls, didn't mean that Angel liked Spike any better. He could have been sneaking off with Buffy, when he could get away from work, the two of them having a good laugh about poor, gullible Spike. No, that wasn't right. Spike knew the smell of Buffy anywhere, and he would have known it if Angel had returned from a weekend of one-on-one time (he shuddered away from the mental images that thought inspired). Come to think of it, he _couldn't _have a weekend like that because of his happiness clause. Not to mention the fact that Buffy didn't know that he was alive.

Buffy had said that she loved him, before he had died. She would have come to see him when Angel told her that he was staying here – even if she didn't love him anymore (which his confident optimism told him that she did), she would still show up to pop him one in the eye, because that was Buffy. Beautiful, lovely, blonde, shining Buffy. In the lobby of Wolfram and Hart. Close again. Close enough to touch.

With that thought, Spike freed himself from Harmony's grip. The sudden burst of optimism he felt wasn't necessary: the sight of Buffy Summers was enough to make him want to dance.

"_Buffy_?" Harmony spat with disbelief as she stumbled backwards at his suddenness. "What does she have to do with anything? _I thought you were over that_!"

"Buffy!" Spike called, as she walked into Angel's office. "Buffy!"

[ ]

"Vampire!" Sebassis yelled, his weapon-wielding followers in tow. "You have a public execution to attend."

"What is this?" Angel replied heatedly, his hand indicating the weapon bearers with a sweeping motion. At the end of the line was Buffy, whom he didn't register for a split second. He did a double take and met the steely eyes of the person he realised was the help that Giles had sent.

"You killed their toad, or something," were her first words to him. His head was reeling, and even the weapons pointed at him did little to shake him from his daze. She was _here_. In Wolfram and Hart. That thought reversed the effect her presence had on him, and it was suddenly was as though she couldn't be out of the building fast enough. The crossbows next to her were enough proof of that.

"Artode!" Sebassis barked, frustrated that he was being ignored. "Artode was murdered; he was the start, I suppose. You thought you would take us one by one. But I will not be played for a fool!"

"I didn't kill anyone," Angel hissed. "Buffy, what are you doing here?" he asked, a little too sharply. Without even needing to look, he knew that his tone would have hurt her.

"Good to see you too," she grumbled, looking slightly dejected. "I'm your back up for the Slayer problem." She rallied her spirits and kept perspective, though, pointing to the still present problem of the Archduke. "Speaking of serious problems that may result in death or injury: what's this guy doing here? He looked pretty trigger happy on the dance floor."

"Insolence!" shouted Sebassis. "Take up your arms," he told his followers, who raised their crossbows and aimed them on the three people in the room; Lorne, Angel and Buffy.

"Hey, hey," Lorne said, raising his arms. "Let's not get crazy here, it's still a party, right?"

"This will not be endured!" Sebassis replied. Although he seemed to calm slightly, the words were unable to deter him before the doors opened from behind and his servants stumbled forward, their crossbows firing. Buffy shifted to the left just before the poison arrow hit her foot and Angel avoided the one that was trained on his chest. The arrow aimed at Lorne misfired completely, much to Angels' relief, because he was sure that the demon would have failed the move in time.

"Buffy!" a voice rumbled as it thudded into the room.

[ ]

She would have known that voice anywhere. That English accent – that peroxided hair. She didn't _need_ Angel to growl "Spike!" but it did confirm that she wasn't dreaming or unconscious or dead.

"Buffy," Spike breathed, an all-encompassing grin eclipsing his face. "You're here!"

"… Spike. You're _alive_?" Buffy couldn't move. She was in shock. Complete, utter shock. "_How_ are you alive? Are you still a–"

"Vampire, yeah. I mean, I _was_ a weird ghost thing, but…"

Weird ghost thing? _Weird ghost thing_? That was all he had to say to her? She had spent months! Lonely, isolated months missing Spike. Thinking of things she could have done differently, done better, and she had finally accepted his death. Admired him for it. She had felt proud that he had gained the redemption he had deserved and moved on to a better place – a place she could relate to. A guilty part of her had thought that maybe he wasn't the ensouled vampire she was destined to be with, anyway. A guilty part of her still thought that. She moved closer. Whether she wanted to hug him or slap him, she hadn't decided. Before she could do either, a womans' scream broke up the whole thing. All of them rushed to the lobby.

"Yeck," said Lorne ruefully as they looked upon what had previously been the snacks table. He grimaced at the sight of his guest dead on the jatz and cheese. "Devlin…"

"Do you believe me now?" Angel asked the Archduke, whose face had soured even further.

"Just because it was not your hand that did this, does not mean your hand did not guide it. I am unconvinced, and you will still pay with your life."

Buffy knew that hitting the painfully righteous demon would solve nothing, but she wanted to so very, very badly. Promising herself extra patrol (amazed that it was a source of consolation, instead of annoyance), she held her place.

"Come on guys," Lorne pleaded, almost in physical pain as he watched his precious party fall to pieces. "Let's not fight. Sebassis," he begged. "Let's have a chat in private. I can help you find out who did this."

"You are an empath demon?" asked Sebassis, seeming calmer.

Lorne nodded. "I'll sign on as your own personal Nancy Drew. I can read everyone here, if you like."

"How do I know I can trust you?" Sebassis asked, his tone sharper this time. Lorne tried to think of something that would lower the demons' weapons for the rest of the doomed party.

"If I can't solve your case, you can personally deal with whomever you think is behind the whole debacle. Behind closed doors."

"Lorne!" Angel exclaimed, then was quiet. It was probably the best approach. Besides, they would get to the bottom of it. Something leaving bodies like this couldn't be too difficult to find.

"Don't worry your pretty hair gel, if it gets too tough I'll come and get you."

Angel nodded, ignoring the joke. "Do you need anything right now?"

Lorne thought. "We need to keep up appearances, so maybe you should still be within the sight of the guests. Spike," he turned to face the blonde. "If you could play bouncer to our little club o' fun, that'd be swell."

Spike was transfixed with Buffy, but when Lorne cleared his throat he said, "Er, yeah, alright," still unsure of what he was agreeing to.

"And you two," Lorne whispered to Buffy and Angel lightly as an attempt to put the Vampire in better spirits for when he was schmoozing with the guests. "Get a room. The sexual tension? With a knife, you could cut it."

[ ]

Lorne was glad that the phrase 'if looks could kill' was just a figure of speech. His mingling skills were formidable, but sating the blood thirst of a demonic Archduke had thrown him into the deep end of the swamp in monsoon season. After half a minute of unsuccessful chatter Sebassis stood and made his way out into the lobby. Lorne followed, praying that Angel had some weapons handy.

"I am dissatisfied! Take me back to Angel, so that I may punish him as I see fi–"

Before Sebassis could finish his sentence, a loud roar sounded from the top of the Wolfram and Hart stairs. A hulky figure jumped down and landed in front of Sebassis. The most eye-catching thing about it was not its size, but its' blue suit and purple shirt that matched Lorne's exactly.

[ ]

"Buffy," Angel said, quickly moving close.

"Angel." Buffy felt their usual magnetism, and was less able to pull away from it than usual. Maybe it was because she was so starved, and she had missed him so much. Maybe it was something else. Maybe she didn't care.

"Buffy," he whispered, planting a kiss on her mouth and trailing them down her neck.

Scratch that; she definitely didn't care.

"I don't think we sh–" Buffy protested, her words muffled in between the kisses she couldn't seem to break off. She and Angel seemed literally unable to keep their hands off of each other, regardless of their all-too-real knowledge of what a bad idea it was.

"It's too dang… erous," he replied, his hands still massaging the small of her back. "W… Can't."

Buffy agreed totally, but she couldn't seem to actualise her agreement, her fingers instead finding the buttons on his shirt, swiftly removing it. Before his could reciprocate, Lorne and Sebassis burst into the room.

[ ]

"Dress yourself!" Sebassis roared, and the trance between Buffy and Angel was broken. Angel hurriedly picked up his shirt and put it on.

"Angelcakes, there's a possible murder on the dance floor, and I'm not talking about the song," said Lorne, looking more nervous than Angel had seen him all night. This alone was enough to have him severely worried. He looked at Buffy and his hand seemed to unconsciously reach for her, but she jerked away from it, afraid of a repeat of what had just happened. What _had_ just happened? When a road sounded from the lobby, he decided it would have to wait until later.

Total, utter chaos broke out when the Lorne-hulk began to smash everything in sight. Party guests rushed to be away from the beast, but to Buffys' amazement they didn't run for the exits like she would have, but moved towards the sides as though they were spectators to some sort of show.

"What is that?" Gunn yelled, doing up his zipper as he ran into the fray. "Did Lorne have a baby with Arnold Schwarzeneger?"

"What a badass!" Spike exclaimed, optimism kicking in again.

"I don't know what it is!" Lorne yelled back, flinching as his doppelganger tore the rail of the stairway off.

"Lorne!" Wesley ran over to him, holding a gun. "I know what it is! Please, just wait a minute!"

"Stop it! _Stop killing_! Listen to me!" Lorne screamed at his opposite, who promptly rammed his fist into Lorne's torso. After he recovered from his flight, he stood and said, "Wow, I must really hate me."

"Sebassis! Get back!" Angel commanded, shielding the Archduke. Angel moved forward and kicked the monster, which failed to react, and Buffy followed suit, raining punches down on him. To her it was like punching meat, and the injuries she inflicted failed to deter the demon from his rampage for more than a minute.

"Everyone out _now_!" Buffy screamed, amazed that everyone was still at the sidelines of what apparently passed for entertainment in this place. "What are you still doing here?"

"Buffy it's no good," Angel told her. Getting his employees out hadn't even occurred to him yet – this was probably the highlight of the night for them. "We've got to subdue it somehow."

Lorne looked stricken, although this time he wisely decided not to try to shield his counterpart. "Don't kill it!"

"We won't," Angel assured him, landing a blow to the other Lorne's ankle that impaired him enough that Buffy's roundhouse kick to his upper torso sent him backwards onto the hardwood floor.

"Nor I," said Sebassis. "But I can't promise the same for you. If this is indeed an alcove of you, then killing you is the most logical step."

"Wait!" Wesley said, hastily signalling someone out of sight in the hallway to come closer. "I know what's wrong!"

Fred burst into the room, springing down the stairs and to Wesley, managing not to trip. She passed him something that Buffy couldn't discern and heard a click. She aimed a gun at Lorne, Fred pulled the trigger and he crumpled into a heap almost instantly. As soon as he did so, the monster disappeared and Buffy was left fighting nothing.

"Now that's what I call cranky before bed time," she mumbled, mostly to herself.

"Actually, that's pretty much the gist of it," Wesley told everyone with a half-hearted smile.

[ ]

"How did you know?" Angel began, pulling Fred, Gunn, Wesley, Buffy, Eve and Spike into his office, where Lorne was sleeping peacefully on the lounge. After being told that his party was, in fact, a hit, he let the cleaning crew have at it and faced his friends (and Spike) for a discussion and hopefully compliance in his proposed 'let's-never-have-a-party-again' idea.

"That it was Lorne's sleep removal that was doing it?" inquired Wesley, thoroughly sober and mightily embarrassed by his own behaviour. He took solace in the fact that, unlike Gunn, he hadn't 'marked' Angel's chair.

"I meant more along the lines of 'how did you know about Lorne's sleep removal at all?'" Angel tried not to sound suspicious, because for the most part he was just impressed and relieved. It was lucky that Lorne and Sebassis had found he and Buffy when they did; he shuddered to think that Angelus might have been a part of the clean up crew if any more time had been given to he and Buffy. Not that he looked upon the whole night as a bad thing. He had held Buffy, kissed her, felt her warm breath on his cheeks, her warm hands in his. It worried him how close he had been to handing himself over to desire completely.

If Wesley heard the drop of suspicion in Angel's tone, he chose to ignore it. "Eve found me when Devlin turned up, told me about Lorne having his sleep removed. Fred and I worked out the rest."

"Which wasn't easy, I'll tell ya," said Fred, smiling and glad to be sober.

"At least you didn't pee on everything in sight," grumbled Gunn as he tried to repress the nights' events.

"Not like I had anything better to do," Eve dismissed with a shrug. "I was never really one for the sacrifice-free parties."

"_That's_ one for the suggestion box," Buffy muttered, a little too loudly. Eve turned to face her.

"And who might you be?"

"Buffy Summers," Buffy said in a falsely chipper voice, designed to patronise. "Long time Slayer."

"Ah…" mused Eve, rounding on Buffy, who remained unintimidated. "So you're the original Slayer? Gotta admit, I thought you'd be a little more…"

"Interested?" Buffy replied offhandedly, causing everyone else to smirk – with the exception of Lorne, who was still out like a light.

"Well, I was going to say 'muscled', but whatever works for you."

"I think that's enough, Eve," interrupted Angel, before Buffy gave in to her very strong urge to knock the girl out with her apparently inadequate muscles. "Get out."

"Wow, just tryin' to help," she said, raising her hands up in defence and leaving the room. Buffy glared at her back until she was out of sight.

"Sorry guys, I gotta run," Gunn said distractedly, glancing down at his beeper. "There's a case I need to handle. Good to meet you Buffy."

"You too," she mumbled, glancing back and forth between Angel and Spike. This was more awkward than anything she had ever dreamed; why was Spike alive? As Fred and Wesley departed, also claiming that business called them elsewhere, Buffy shifted back and forth on her feet, biting the inside of her cheek. Angel and Spike kept their eyes resolutely on Buffy, with neither having any idea of what to say. For about sixty seconds she told herself that she would remain calm, and waited for something to change in the scene. When nothing did, she threw her levelheaded proposal out the window and opted instead for vehement demands.

"Okay, will someone tell me what the hell is going on here?" she said forcefully. "First I come to L.A. to help you, where I find out that you," she wagged her finger in Angel's direction accusingly. "Run the evilest law firm this side of reality, and you!" she waved her hand at Spike this time, barely succeeding in her efforts not to ball it up into a fist and beat him, an urge she had been suppressing a lot tonight. "The last time I saw you, you were burning to death! What, did you use the trap door when I wasn't looking? Trick of the light? Stunt doubles?"

"It's not like that love," Spike murmured.

Angel looked at her pleadingly. "We can explain, if you let us."

"I'm sorry," she relented. She knew she shouldn't have barged in and exploded – she knew it wasn't her city. Although she didn't feel too guilty about yelling at Spike. He should have told her! "This isn't my city, I know."

"It's okay. Do you…?" he started, unsure of how he was going to complete his sentence.

"I think I need to talk to Spike alone," she said. Angel obligingly cleared out and Buffy could have sworn she saw the blonde vampire make a very inappropriate gesture in his direction. Once the two were alone, she threw her arms around him. This was as much a way to prove that he was really there as it was a greeting.

"Hello pet," he whispered affectionately. She pulled away, and though he didn't agree with the movement, he didn't try to stop her.

"... How?" she asked, tears spilling over her eyes and down her cheeks. She had seen the beginning of his death, felt his skin (which had, for the first time, been warm) on hers as he burned from the inside out. And now he was in L.A. with Angel having a _party_?

"I don't quite know, myself. I got brought back, less than whole, then one day I got a package in the mail and I was me again."

"And it never occurred to you to say... Drop me a line?" Buffy felt both hurt and angered, and she didn't know which one was winning at that  
moment. "Email? Letter? Batsymbol floodlight in the sky?"

Spike directed his eyes to the floor, taking his eyes off of her for the first time. "I couldn't. I couldn't go out in a trail of glory and then show up nineteen days later. It was better to let you remember me how I was. Remember what I did for you."

Buffy gaped at him. Was that _really_ his reason? "You think I _care_ about that? Do you think I would have thrown you out on the curb because you're not some great hero?"

"Well…"

Buffy threw her arms up in the air and distanced herself from him. "You're _kidding_ me! Spike, that's ridiculous! Do you know how long I spent missing you? Trying to keep it together for Dawn and my friends? And you put me through that because you wanted to play the _hero_?"

Now that she said it, it did sound a little ridiculous. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, love. Best for both of us."

"Why do you and Angel keep doing what you think is _best_ for me?" Buffy asked, tears flowing again. "Why can't you just let me decide what _I_ want?"

[ ]

"_Why can't you just let me decide what _I _want_?" she said, and in that second Spike realised that she didn't mean him. She had loved him – he knew that she had loved him, but she didn't love him best. There was a part of her that he wasn't allowed to have, because it wasn't hers to give away. Spike hated himself for his insight. He wanted to hold her and kiss her, and be with her without these thoughts, but the seed had been planted, and he couldn't escape them. Not now, not when he knew they were right. He hated it so, very much, but that didn't make it go away. It never went away.

Maybe this was his payment; Angel had gone a hundred years without comfort, but he hadn't. He had been okay, and maybe that _had_ been too good to be true, as he'd always suspected. Or maybe the world just sucked, as he had _also_ always suspected.

"It's okay, Buffy," he muttered, staring into her eyes. Those eyes, they were his salvation. Now he could be hers. And if she changed her mind, he'd always be close anyway. Still, he knew what he had to do.

"No!" she argued, totally ignorant of what he was saying. "It's not okay!"

"I'm not talking about that, love." Spike groaned inwardly; he _really_ didn't want to be doing this. There was only so far his chivalry could extend.

"Then what are you talking about?" she replied, fired up and thoroughly puzzled.

Spike smiled at her, stroking his cheek with her thumb. He tried to communicate with her through his eyes. "You've got Angel breath."

Buffy bit her lip guiltily. "It was Lorne's spell."

"Buffy, I know we had something. I know I still love you, but… God," he sighed, placing his hand on his forehead. This was so difficult. "I couldn't be with you… I couldn't stand, if there was a shred of a chance that you'd be thinkin' about him when we were. It's all circumstantial, and this isn't my game any more."

"This isn't… I mean, I'm not here as a permanent thing. I'm only here for a little while."

"I'm not just talkin' about now. You've got scars I can't heal – scars I'll only make worse. This is me, standin' aside. There's a bit of poet left in me Buffy, and he's tellin' me that our sonnet's is already written. I gotta do the right thing here." Spike leaned in, and he knew she wouldn't resist. He placed his lips on hers and stroked the hair he had loved so dearly for so, very long. The kiss was a goodbye, it was him letting go, it was knowing that he'd be okay.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, placing her forehead against his.

"It's alright," he told her, and he meant it. There was nothing left for her to say to him. "And you know, if you ever change your mind…"

"I know." She smiled, amused.

Spike leaned back, changing from affectionate to stern. "But always keep in mind…"

"Yeah?"

"I've got the better sodding hairdo."

She laughed, and then she was gone. As he stood in that office and wondered what to do with himself, he was overcome with a similar feeling. He had saved the girl, now he was left alone; burning.

"SPIKE!" a voice boomed as the person who owned it thundered into the room. "Was that your Slayer _whore_?"

"Oh, bloody Hell Harmony."


End file.
